Blue Scrubs
by hinky doodle
Summary: At the end of her residency, Neela thinks back on how she's come to be at this place in her life.  NeelaDubenko
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first fic ever. Later chapters might have a little bit of spoilers for the start of season fourteen. I updated to fix spelling ._

Blue Scrubs

_November 2010  
_

She wasn't sure when or even how it happened, originally. She still tells him he's daft. Bonkers. Barking, even. He gives her one of his dimpled smiles and a knowing look when she does. When she first met him she certainly thought the man was certifiable. He wrote on the bloody walls for God's sake. Then there was the fact that he spent his time sniffing around Abby Lockhart. It didn't matter; she was in love with Michael.

That's what she tells herself. Admitting that maybe she wasn't so in love with the man she wound up marrying wasn't something she could do, even now. How do you tell people you weren't head over heels for someone they like to consider a hero? Then of course was the dreadful mess with Gates. Oh, he liked to tease her about that. They all did. Dusty, in particular, liked to remind her about his warnings. She tried not to think about him much. Rubbish put out on the curb is best forgotten.

No, there wasn't much she didn't talk to him about these days but there was an unspoken agreement that one topic was off limits. Ray Barnett. She knew he was aware of her feelings for their former colleague. At one time he'd even admitted it was nice they got on so well together. That was when she was only Ray's roommate of course and she was still married to the hero. She couldn't say why it was that Lucien was so accepting of her need to guard her feelings for another man, maybe he was self aware enough to realize he was second choice. Or maybe he didn't really think about it much. It was hard to say with him; after all he was a bit of an eccentric mess.

She shook her head to free herself from her meandering thoughts; he was looking at her from the other side of the sinks, his hands held up before him. Face half hidden by his mask, just as her was, his question was still clear: are you ready? The patient was waiting, the team in place and they had a job to do. Her introspection could wait until later. 


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't remember much about the accident that put her in the hospital. She had been in a mental fog when she attended the rally in the first place. When she thought about the accident, what she really recalled was Ray. Ray in that hospital. Katey yelling at her. Ray being wheeled away in the hospital bed. Ray telling her not to visit him. Ray telling her that he was in love with her. Ray. Ray. Ray.

She didn't remember being trampled. The trauma room at County wasn't any clearer. Abby was there. Lucien. Some other people. Then there was blissful darkness. It wasn't until she'd come out of anesthesia so many hours later, woke up with a tube down her throat and her body wrapped in bandages that she groggily thought something might be wrong with her. Before she could panic she'd heard his voice, quiet and soothing.

"Hey, Neela...welcome back."

She couldn't see him, he was beside her but turning her head just wasn't an option. She'd felt his warm hand on her wrist, caught sight of his lab coat sleeve as he reached up to adjust an IV drip. It wasn't until a nurse asked him for something that Dr. Dubenko had leaned across the bed and she was able to look at him. As he handed off what must have been her chart, Neela studied her chief. He looked tired. Drawn. Worried. His scrubs were rumpled and his hair was messier than usual. He wasn't wearing his glasses. Were his eyes red-rimmed?

He must have felt her studying him because he'd looked down at her and smiled. "You gave us a scare but you'll be just fine...just fine..."

She drifted in and out of sleep for some time after that but whenever she woke, he was there. Sleep deprived and miserable, but he was there. He'd joke that he was her physician and had a responsibility to his patient. That he had to take care of his best surgeon so she could get back in the OR, he had a lot left to teach her. It wasn't long before those excuses wore thin. The nurses would whisper about it, Neela could hear them as she laid there pretending to sleep. The chief of surgery had more than a medical interest in his intern. She had wanted to laugh, would have but it hurt too much. She'd known about his feelings for her, after all he'd blurted them out in the middle of an argument not too long ago. 


	3. Chapter 3

Recovery was a slow process. It was even worse to do it under the watchful and sometimes overly sympathetic eyes of your coworkers. It did give her a new appreciation for what her patients went through though. Her job might be done once they were moved from post op, but healing was still a long way off. Lucien, she'd started calling him by his first name more often after the third or fourth wound check, had at least attempted to be tactful and gentle with his prodding questions. Dr. Crenshaw, she had stopped calling him Dusty after the first time she was visited during rounds, has an entirely different approach.

"Neela can't go home until she makes a poo poo..." He had delighted in this form of postoperative torment. Every embarrassing question he could ask, he did. And the more she squirmed the more detail he pressed for.

"Dusty, leave her alone. She's been through enough." Her savior. He never let Crenshaw get too out of hand.

Of course she knew there were valid reasons for the questions and the prodding, but she much preferred Lucien's quiet questions when they were alone. The not so subtle glass of prune juice with her hospital lunch. The sympathetic smile that said he's been the patient before too and understood. The way he made eye contact with her when discussing her chart and progress. He treated her not just another patient that was forgotten once rounds were over.

He was genuinely pleased to see her wobble around on unsteady legs instead of using the wheel chair to get around. He'd walk with her up and down the hallways, IV bags in his deep lab coat pocket so she didn't have to drag the wheeled stand around with her. He even once snuck her up onto the roof for some much begged for fresh air. She found out from Abby that he was the one who suggested her friend bring the comfortable pajamas from home. Cottons and silks were so much more dignifying than the hospital gowns. Made her feel more like herself.

Her days as a patient were spent sleeping, trying to sleep and not being able to sleep interspersed with visits from Abby and various nurses. Abby. She'd thanked him for that. Lucien made sure to keep most of the nosy and well-meaning people away. To give her as much privacy as possible. The brunette doctor would come bring her lunch, share gossip and try to cheer her up. She'd talk about her own problems and gloss over Neela's, understanding that she didn't want to talk about it. Once Abby and Luka had gotten their passport problems corrected, Neela missed those visits until Lucien started showing up with take out lunches instead.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucien had insisted she take time off before coming back to work. To finish healing, he told her. Go stark raving bonkers, she claimed. He laughed at her and said he'd see her in about a week if that were the case. The additional time off did help her to heal, physically at least. Mentally it did very little to alleviate the many regrets and pangs of guilt she felt about Ray, about Michael. She spent most of her time thinking about them, about how she could have and should have handled things between the two men.

She tried not to think about accusations that it as all her fault. Ray's accident. Michael's death. Still, Neela being Neela she took the blame on regardless of the logical part of her insisting she was innocent of these crimes. If she had been a better wife maybe Michael would have stayed. He'd still be alive. If she hadn't married Michael maybe she and Ray would have had a chance. If she never got tangled up with Gates maybe Ray wouldn't hate her. If, if, if.

She found reprieve from her thoughts in television programming. Do it yourself television. Egg carton lamps. It was mindless and repetitive. And the lamps were ugly as sin. Still, they gave her something to do. She'd tried to call Ray once or twice every day that she'd been home, never able to let the call ring through. What would she have said to him? She told herself that he didn't want her when he left; he certainly wouldn't want her now. And yet, she left his CD on repeat in her stereo. The one he made for her. Best roomie ever...

She couldn't wait to get back to work. Have something else to concentrate on. Problems she had solutions for. Surgery was easy. Cutting and sewing. Mop up the blood. Tie this off, remove that. Transplant this. In the end everything was all tidy and usually life a little bit better for the patient as a result. Not having to focus on her own life made the processes all that more appealing.


	5. Chapter 5

Coming back to work, she found, was an exercise in frustration. Everyone wanted her to 'start back slow' and 'take it easy'. Wankers, the lot of them. They'd stop talking when she'd come around a corner, she knew they were either talking about her, Ray or her and Ray. The news of his accident and withdrawal from County's residency program had spread slowly while she was dealing with her own recovery. Some people tried to shelter her from the gossip and rumors, others like Katey, were all too eager to implicate her in the tragedy. Neela did her best to pretend none of it mattered.

Or so she thought. He found her huddled in the corner of the surgical lounge one night, post call. Instead of prying he simply handed her a box of tissues and vacated the room again. She often thought that was the kindest thing anyone had yet to do for her. He didn't gawk at the unsightly mess she was, tear streaked and puffy. He didn't try to offer platitudes or false reassurances. He let her be.

She should have known, should have known him better, to realize that wouldn't be the end of it. Lucien may have let her have her bit of sobbing in the wee hours of the morning but he wasn't just being kind. He was stewing on the problem. Working it out for himself, she supposed. He made certain to leave her off the surgical roster for particular cases, swapped her scheduled shifts to be the one working with her. Limited her consults to the ER. Protecting her the only way she'd allow, the only way he knew how.

It wasn't until she'd missed out on one of his 'totally fantastic' cases that she'd finally had enough of being coddled. "Lucien, we need to talk..."


	6. Chapter 6

_Notes: Sorry for not updating sooner. I had some computer problems and then I got a little stuck with the plot here. I hope you still like it._

They had talked. They had argued. She screamed and accused. He was coddling her, doing exactly what he promised not to do--making surgical decisions based on his feelings for her. And oh how that stung him. She almost immediately regretted throwing that one in his face.

He simply became quiet then. Hung his head in defeat, held his hands up in acquiessence. "You're right, Neela. You're right."

His sad admittance didn't give her the sense of victory she'd been after. Instead, it touched her strangely. Made her heart actually ache for the man standing in front of her. She reached out and brushed her fingertips against the side of his wrist. "Lucien...I'm sorry I can't be-"

"I know." He interrupted her, and she wasn't quite sure he did know. Wasn't sure if they were on the same page or not anymore. "I know you don't return my...look, I did a lot of thinking while you were, while you were recovering. I'm trying, okay?"

Oh, they so weren't on the same page, she realized. Probably not even the same book. When she reached for him this time, her fingers closed around as much of his wrist as she could hold. "I was only trying to tell you that I can't be smothered like this. I can't be the good intern if you won't let me be a surgeon, Lucien."

She wasn't going to comment on his feelings. She couldn't yet. Not until she could sort out her own. That realization made her chew her bottom lip in frustration. Men were impossible. Hadn't she told him that once? Bloody impossible and there were too many of them for her to deal with. She forced herself to let go of him and looked up to find hazel eyes intently studying her.

"I'll put you back on the schedule. Rounds start at seven a.m." He wasn't going to push.

She quietly thanked him and let herself out of his office. The feeling of victory came the next day, when she was back in the OR across the table from him. Patient between them. He let her make the first incision.


	7. Chapter 7

_Note: Very tiny spoilers for season 14 about a new character. Doesn't give away any episode plots though._

Time passed. She went from the intern being tortured by Crenshaw the git to a resident with her own intern. One she proudly made a point of not tormenting. Or at least after a while she didn't torment him. Much. So she almost made him cry on his first day…she tried to tell herself she'd only been following Dusty's instructions. Stupid instructions, she later amended as she recounted the incident to Lucien. 

They were eating dinner together. Chinese, and right out of the paper cartons. She used a fork, he used chopsticks. He also kept stealing the water chestnuts out of her meal. He didn't know she liked them and she wasn't going to tell him. Ray knew, she thought to herself as she pondered stabbing her fellow surgeon with her utensil.

He'd noticed the change of expression on her face and after carefully chewing and swallowing a mouthful of food, he moved from his perch on the edge of his office couch to sit on the floor next to her. "I thought you didn't mind sharing?"

She shook her head. How was she going to explain to him about the last meal Ray had cooked for her when they were roommates? She couldn't, not without sounding like a nutter. "I don't."

"Then what's wrong?"

You keep stealing my chestnuts, she thought but smiled and said, "I'm a failure as a mentor. My intern doesn't fear me."

He laughed. He took the last water chestnut too. She supposed she could live with that especially since he looked so content just to sit next to her, pick through her dinner and occasionally nudge her with an elbow if she grew too quiet on him.

She looked over at him startled when she felt his hand on her hair. She never expected his sudden attacks of intimacy. The way he'd lean against her in the elevator, place a hand on her back as they walked down the hall, play with her hair as he was doing now.

"Lucien?" She did know from experience that he probably wanted to ask her something if he was being so tactile.

"You don't find me intimidating, do you?" The question was quiet, as if he weren't sure of her answer.

"No." Yes, she did but not in the way she assumed he was asking.

"Have I failed as your mentor?" He was smiling again, this question he knew the answer to.

"I'm not going to sit here and stroke your ego after you ate my dinner, you tosser." She flung a fortune cookie at him.

"Tosser?" He asked, always charmed by her English turns of phrase. "I know you just insulted me and yet I feel like I'm being paid a compliment."

"Toss pot, wanker, git…" She started a litany of insults only to be silenced when he leaned in and kissed her.

She stiffened at first, just as she had the first time he'd kissed her. Months and months ago that had been, Luka and Abby's wedding. He'd been drunk. She'd been…she'd been confused.

She still felt confused as his lips lingered on hers, soft now. Warm. Maybe a little oily from the Chinese food. This time it had been different though. She kissed him back. Just briefly. Only a bit of pressure returned before she leaned away from him and started to collect their garbage.

"Thank you."

"Git."


	8. Chapter 8

Christmas that year was awkward. She sent Ray a card, received one as well. She opened it, alone and in secret, hiding in a supply closet as she read every word of the short note he scrawled. He was doing well. All things considered. That's what he'd written. All things considered. She supposed she was lumped in there somewhere. Her and her part in his unhappiness. Still she was glad that he was healing and getting on with things. She tucked the card away in her locker; she'd know it was there. 

Someone had hung mistletoe above the clerk's desk on the surgical floor. She fell for it once, gingerly kissing Harold, her intern, chastely on the cheek. When she found herself there again, this time facing a smirking Crenshaw, she declined the tradition saying she didn't celebrate the holiday. She laughed and insisted they play along when Crenshaw and Lucien found themselves trying to side step each other and the plant. They settled on a handshake.

Much later that shift she found herself knocking on Dubenko's office door. He was making his preparations to leave, to spend the evening with his sister. She smiled remembering the way he told her of his family tradition the year before. She still thought it sweet of him, really. He was smiling at her as he beckoned her into the cluttered space, one hand fumbling with his tie.

"You look nice." She meant it; he always presented a handsome picture in his suits. She reached up to straighten his tie, giving him a bit of an apologetic smile as he dropped his hands and let her have at the task.

"So do you." He was looking at her from an odd angle, his head tilted to the side to give her room to fuss with his neckwear.

She laughed. "I'm in scrubs."

"I like blue."

"Must be bloody fantastic being a surgeon then, hmm?"

She could tell he wanted to laugh; his lips pressed together in a firm line and his cheeks just a hint of red on them. Instead he brought a hand up to cover one of hers. "I'm sorry you're working tonight."

"It's all right. I don't even really celebrate Christmas. Sikh." She had mentioned, knowing that the statement wasn't quite true. She'd always observed the holiday at least superficially with friends and family.

"What about your family?"

"London."

He studied her for a moment, seemed to fidget in place as he searched for words. "I think this is the first time I've ever wished I didn't have standing plans for the holidays."

She was flattered by the notion but shook her head as she gave his arm a pat. "Lucien, we've talked about this. I—"

"I know. Neela, I know." He interrupted, looking sad before forcing another smile. He wasn't going to acknowledge the matter of her having so much to still work through, not on Christmas Eve. "So, what brings you to my office?"

"Oh…well." Her turn to look foolish and flustered. "I wanted to wish you a Happy Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Neela."

"I got you something this year." She pulled the tiny well-wrapped package out of her lab coat pocket and offered it to him. "Open it later."

He palmed the box as he considered it thoughtfully. "All right."

"I have patients to check on." She wanted to get out of there before she—or he, did something she'd possibly regret. "Have a nice time with your sister."


	9. Chapter 9

_Notes: Somewhat of a spoiler for season 14. I took inspiration from the spoilers for Abby's part in this._

If Christmas had been awkward, New Year's was somber. There weren't any work related parties or celebrations to attend, at least none that her friends would be attending. Neela had been so wrapped up in her own problems-the strange and fledgling new relationship with Lucien, work, healing- that she barely noticed when other people around her took a spill. She tried to tell herself that she wasn't the only one taken by surprise when Abby showed up in the ER as a patient. 

A car accident. A drunk driver. Nothing too serious, a few stitches and bandage were all she needed. Until the police showed up and wanted a blood alcohol level. A DUI. Abby had been arrested for drunk driving. It woke them all up. Shook Neela up a bit as well. It was a horrid way to ring in the new year, watching your best friend leave for rehab.

So no parties, no champagne, no count down at midnight. No kisses. She ticked the list off in her head as she stood in the elevator. "No one in his or her right mind working tonight, either." She muttered to herself.

She was making her way to the surgical lounge after her fifth, no sixth ER consult that night. Holidays brought out the zaniest patients. The loneliest. Craziest. Six consults and only one of them had actually required a trip to the OR. She hadn't even been able to scrub in on that one; it had been handed off to Ortho.

Letting herself into the apparently empty lounge, Neela sighed. "Some surgeon. I'm not even doing any surgeries tonight. I'm Dr. Paperwork. Dr. Scut. Dr. Please Run Down to the ER and Tell Morris He's A Wanker." She continued to babble to herself as she poured a cup of mediocre coffee.

She carried her cup over to an armchair and sank down into it, closing her eyes in a blissful moment of relaxation. That's when she heard it. Him. The chuckle. Oh bloody hell, she wasn't alone after all. She opened her eyes slowly, first the left then the right. Sitting on the couch across the room from her was a very amused man. He set aside the stack of charts he'd been reviewing and moved over to where she was seated.

"Don't say it, please." She pleaded as she brought her coffee to her lips.

He didn't. He waited for her to sip the hot liquid instead.

"I'm not crazy." Neela glanced at him, a challenge.

"No." He shook his head though his expression said he was humoring her.

"Sane people talk to themselves all the time."

"Sure."

"Morris **is** a wanker."

"Indeed."

"I'm worried about Abby."

"I'm not. She's getting the help she needs." His hand was on hers now. "I'm worried about you."

She had started to protest. He had nothing to worry about. She was fine. In fact those words were on the tip of her tongue when his pager sounded. He didn't get up to answer the page; instead he glanced at the display and smiled.

"What?"

"It's midnight."

"Oh…well. Two thousand and eight." She saluted him with her half-filled cup of lukewarm coffee.

"Happy New Year, Neela." He was looking at her almost expectantly.

What the hell, she thought to herself as she set her cup down and leaned towards him. It was a tradition. A rationalization she could live with as she gave the other surgeon a kiss. "You don't have to worry about me, Lucien."

He nodded, his face still close to hers. "Someone has to."


	10. Chapter 10

She let him go on worrying about her over the next few weeks that somehow turned into months. He let her continue to say nothing was wrong, not that he bothered to hide the fact that he didn't believe her. They didn't see each other outside of work-not that that says much, they were both workaholics and practically lived in the hospital-unless bumping into each other at the Jumbo Mart or Ike's counted. Still, the rumor mill was full of buzz about the pair of surgeons. 

Another attending involved with one of his residents, but weren't they so well suited for each other? She needed someone to look out for her and he wanted someone to care for. Older man, younger woman-so cliché but it works. Those were just some of the things people were saying about them. Neela didn't know if Lucien was aware of the gossip or if he simply didn't care. She chose an air of indifference herself, none of what they were talking about was even true. Or was it?

If anyone had asked her directly about Lucien Dubenko, she'd have denied any sort of attraction on her part. It was absurd. He was her attending, her mentor…her friend. He was kind, understanding, encouraging…and patient. Sweet, funny and a little odd. And she liked spending time with him. He confused her. Or maybe she confused herself. Neela didn't know any more, but she did know that when she was with Lucien she felt, if not happy, then at least not sad.

Ever since Michael had gone back to Iraq, Lucien had been there. He offered her distractions at work, kept her busy. Talked her into accepting a place in his department. After the funeral, he'd offered condolences and then continued with the diversions. Put her, an intern, on his new transplant team. Encouraged her talents and skills. He kept his thoughts about Gates to himself, never let Crenshaw harass her too much about the ER doctor.

Dubenko even clumsily tried to apologize for his crush on her, his drunken pass at Abby's wedding. His outburst at work about his feelings for her. She accepted his apologies, told him she was flattered and left it at that. Or so she thought. Then her accident put her in his care, at his mercy. Neela almost dying brought his feelings back to the fore for Dubenko. She'd watched him struggle with them, try to hide it in friendly concern. He seemed to have resigned himself to this balancing act of caring but not getting too close. He'd give her one of **those** smiles, a look and even once or twice there was a gentle meeting of their lips but he never spoke about his feelings. Not after that first outburst.

All of this was rolling around inside of Neela's head as she walked down the snow-lined, frozen Chicago sidewalk. She thought the cold air would help her think, put some order to the emotional chaos, help her make up her mind. She shouldn't have been surprised when she realized she was standing at his front walk. The brownstone walkup looked warm and inviting compared to the paved sidewalk she was standing on. He was home, she knew. His car was parked right there on the street. There were lights on here and there in the house. Smoke coming from the chimney.

She stood there for a few minutes, wondering what Lucien might be doing behind those brick walls. Then she resumed her walk. She wasn't ready to knock on the door and find out. Not yet.


	11. Chapter 11

"Breathe in…and out…" Neela listened to the soft voice of the yoga instructor, a lithe little woman of indeterminate age, as the class was coming to a close. 

Seated next to her was Lucien, relaxed and seemingly oblivious to anything happening around him. His bright blue mat seemed to be an oasis of calm for the older surgeon. Neela looked down at her own tangerine colored mat and fought the urge to sigh. She knew the exercises helped with the persistent stiffness and body aches her accident left her with. She usually **did** feel better after a class, physically anyway. Lately however, she often found herself an emotional wreck.

She was still writing to Ray, never telephoning. She didn't want to hear the accusations in his voice if they spoke. She didn't go with Morris and Pratt when they made a road trip to Baton Rogue. She said she couldn't take the time off if she didn't want to be behind in her residency hours. She was just avoiding, again. Afraid of a confrontation, of more hurt words. Of saying good-bye.

She knew her former roommate was doing well in his hometown. He was taking his physical therapy seriously and had determination to walk again with the use of prosthetics. His last letter even mentioned his interest in finishing his residency in the South. She was happy for him in that regard, truly. But Neela also knew that if Ray were staying in Baton Rogue, there was no real possibility of them ever being more than friends. Her home was Chicago. Her life and her career were here and after Michael, she swore to herself that letters and long distance would never be enough. She needed more than that.

There was also the nagging thought that maybe Ray wasn't even the right person for her. You needed more than physical attraction to have a successful relationship. Michael taught her that. Of course Ray was more than that he was a friend. And they had been good roommates…eventually. But what did they really have in common? And why was she even asking herself these things now when Ray wasn't an option?

Men were just bloody impossible. Everything about them. She did finally let out that sigh.

"Hey, Neela?" Lucien was standing now, mat rolled up and tucked under his arm, looking down at her with bemusement. "We have rounds…"

She looked up at him, shook her head to clear her thoughts away and smiled. "Sorry."

"Are you okay?"

She nodded as she took the hand he offered, letting him pull her to her feet. Here was the other option, the one who grew more appealing to her as time went on. Maybe she would finally make a phone call to Ray. "I'm all right. Just…thinking."

"Well you can think on your way to get changed, don't be late."

She shook her head as he let go of her hand and left the conference room. She was certain she'd be doing a lot of thinking and not just in the locker room.


	12. Chapter 12

_Notes: This chapter is really long, but I think it's necessary to make the transition from Neela not knowing what she wants and her finally being able to put aside some of her guilt issues so she and Dubenko can move forward. Again there is very minor inspiration from some spoilers, nothing that gives away any f the plots for season 14._

May meant a lot of things to different people. Spring flowers, school breaks, weddings being planned…to Neela, May was as gloomy and depressing as you could get. It marked two years of being a widow. Burying what little was left of her husband. One year since Ray's tragic accident. A year since her own, the scars still not faded enough to satisfy her. A year since she'd broken up with— 

"Hey, Mayday!"

God, how that name grated on her nerves. Not only because it was Gates; but because the word only reminded her of how much she hated this month and that the word itself signaled distress. She shuddered before turning and giving the ER doctor a false smile. "Tony…"

"You covering the ER today?" Why he was happy about this prospect she couldn't guess, though she supposed it was because he was having problems with his new girlfriend. He stopped shaving again. A sure sign that the chaplain wasn't getting up close and personal with the often-belligerent resident.

"No. I'm just stealing your coffee." She let herself into the lounge and helped herself to two Styrofoam cups of the hot liquid.

"Think you should cut back?" He nodded at the double dose of java.

She shook her head. "One of them is for Lucien."

"Lucien?" He sounded confused for a moment then nodded in understanding. "Oh, right. Dubenko. Buttering up the chief for something, huh?"

"Something like that." She left the lounge then, not caring to discuss her department chair with anyone.

A short while later she was using her elbow to try and open the outer door to Lucien's office. He must have heard her repeated attempts to open the door, because he appeared on the other side, pulling it open with a mild look of irritation. "What are you…oh, hi, Neela." His tone changed as soon as he saw it was her and not an unwanted interruption after all.

She gave him a weak smile as she lifted one of the cups. "Coffee?"

He took it without comment and made a sweeping gesture to welcome her into his office. She ducked past him and into the room, looking around for a place to sit and finding none. He had research materials and stacks of books and files on every possible surface.

"What in the world are you doing in here, Lucien?" She looked up at him, dismayed.

He smirked; not at all bothered by the paper chaos he was surrounded with. "I know where everything is, believe it or not, so don't touch anything."

"But what is it? Never mind, I don't want to know." She shook her head as he opened his mouth to explain. "You'll just try to talk me into helping."

"What resident doesn't want to publish?" He countered, resting his hip against the corner of his desk.

"I **have** published. I've presented at a major conference, been attacked by rat activists, spoken at M&Ms, taken yoga classes, participated in a holiday pageant, signed up for hockey, mentored an intern, taught I don't know how many med students…" She finally gave up and flopped into his desk chair, setting her coffee in front of her as she looked up at him. "I have no life, Lucien. I want a life."

He laughed at her. "Sounds like you have a very busy life, Neela."

She made a frustrated noise and put her head down on the desk. "I don't have anything but this stupid hospital."

He must have sensed her sudden change in mood because Lucien stopped smiling and set his own drink aside as he crouched down next to her. "That's not true, Neela. Not entirely." He waited a beat then added softly, "You have me…"

"You're part of the hospital."

He uttered a quiet curse word or two. "I resent that, you know."

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean…"

"What? I'm just part of the mundane, dreary life you've sentenced yourself to live?"

"Lucien!" She sat up, hurt by his words, hurt as she realized how she must sound to him. She placed a tentative hand on his arm. "You aren't mundane or dreary. You're…you."

"Thank you for the enlightenment."

Oh, she really had wounded him, she could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. "You're wonderful, Lucien. You are."

"But not wonderful enough, am I?"

The candor in his expression tore at her. She couldn't keep doing this to him; it wasn't fair. He deserved to know why she kept stalling, resisting. "I wish you could understand…"

"Explain it to me."

"Explain that I hate this time of year? Everything bad happens in May. Everything bad happens to anyone I get close to. I've lost my husband, my roommate, a friend; a little girl lost her mother…I can't do this any more. I can't lose you too." There, she said it. Maybe it was too much, or maybe not enough. She couldn't read the change in his features as he studied her.

He cleared his throat before addressing her and when he did, his voice was steady and sure though quiet. "None of that was your fault. And you aren't going to lose me. I'm not going anywhere."

Neela was shaking her head, ready to deny what he was saying. She's spent so much time telling herself that she's to blame for everyone's tragedy that she can't see past it to reason. Her voice broke as she began to speak. "Of course it is. Look at them all. Michael, Tony, Ray…what do they all have in common? Me. Me and the horrible things that happened."

"That's absurd." He was pulling her from the chair and onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her. "Life happens, bad things happen. We don't get to control that. You didn't cause your husband's death."

"He was home, Lucien. He married me and he wanted to go back. He didn't have to, he wanted to…I wasn't good enough to keep him here." And there it was, the crux of it all, she didn't think she was enough for anyone.

Lucien's arms tightened around her as she tucked her face against his neck. "I don't know what his reasons were, Neela, but I doubt very much it had to do with a lack of love for you. And regardless, you didn't kill him. It's a war, people die in wars." He hoped his words were getting through to her, even if they weren't the most comforting. He was being honest. "It's not you're fault."

Part of her knew he might be right, probably was right, but it's been so much easier to hide behind the guilt of Michael's death. It was her excuse not to get close to Ray and it was the reason she used to get close to Tony. Doing so managed to hurt even more people and she decided that rather than risk hurting anyone else, she'd continue to hide. She never counted on Lucien trying to talk her out that course of action. Never thought he'd want to…or that she would be willing to let him.

"And Neela, you know you didn't cause Dr. Barnett's accident. It was just that. An accident."

Maybe not, maybe she wasn't going to let him talk her out of it. She sniffled and murmured against his neck, her breath hot on his skin. "It was because of me. I never gave him an answer and he got drunk and walked into the street. He was listening to my voicemail when he was hit."

He made a shushing noise deep in his throat as he rubbed her back. She could almost hear him thinking or a way to reason with her even before he said the words. "I see. So you made him drink, you made him leave the reception and continue to drink. You drove the…truck was it? You drove the truck that hit him?

"No."

"No." He was smoothing her hair back from her face by then. "Not your fault."

She nodded, shifted in his embrace so that she could look up at him, her head on his shoulder. She found herself thinking it was comforting to be there, in his arms. Sitting in his lap. On the floor of his office. It was safe. He was safe.

"And I think you know that what happened to Dr. Gates' companion wasn't your fault. You don't control the actions of others and if it reflects badly on anyone, it's Dr. Gates, not you." He wasn't going to let her beat herself up about any of this, not if he could help it.

"If you even think about telling me last year's rally is your fault, I'm calling psych." He tried to make a joke of it and failed, sobering before he could even smile. She watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. "I have never been so scared to get a trauma page. Never. I was so afraid we were going to lose you."

She watched him struggle with the memories of her accident, the way he closed his eyes, clenched his jaw. And still, she could see him tremble a bit as he fought against strong emotions. Oh, this gentle man who had done nothing but offer her comfort and support for so long, he was just as vulnerable and it was because of her. She brought a hand up to his face, placed it against his cheek. "You saved my life."

His eyes opened then, his gaze falling to hers. She wasn't sure who moved in closer first, but his mouth was on hers and her lips were parting for his tongue even as she slipped her hands into his hair. They stayed that way for some minutes, lost in coffee flavored kisses and attempts to comfort each other. When they finally broke apart, she was slightly out of breath.

"The month of May is still bullocks." She challenged quietly.

Instead of arguing, he offered her a smile. "Then the first of June, we have a date."


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews. This chapter isn't as long as the last one, but I wanted to get this posted. I'm still working on the actual date so the next update might be a while._

Neela spent most of the first day of June in a distracted mood. She and Lucien hadn't spoken about their possible date in almost three weeks. Had he forgotten? Were they going to go out? What time would he pick her up—would he pick her up? Instead of just asking the surgical chief for clarification Neela told herself she was being silly. There wasn't going to be a date, surely he'd have mentioned actual plans by now if there were. He had only said that so many weeks ago to make her feel better.

She must have convinced herself of this sometime around mid-afternoon, before she was supposed to scrub in on a surgery, because by the time she was gowned and gloved, facing Lucien from the opposite side of an unconscious patient she was utterly shocked at his casual conversation.

"I hope you like foreign films, Neela."

She almost dropped the blue drape she'd been placing on the patient. "What?"

"Oh, come on Neela, you know…foreign films? Not made in Hollywood." Dusty felt the need to chime in, "Or is it that you don't know what a film is? Big moving pictures up on a—"

"Stop it, Dustin." Lucien addressed the other man without taking his eyes off Neela. "Make a three centimeter incision along the abdominal wall…we can always skip the movie if it's not your thing." He casually mixed instructions in with the rest of his conversation.

He hadn't forgotten, or been anything but sincere. The realization made Neela smile to herself, the expression hidden by her sterile mask. Then her eyes widened in mild shock and she had to cease making the incision Lucien had been talking her through. They were going on a date. And he was talking about it in the OR. In front of Dr. Crenshaw and half a dozen nurses.

"Neela?" He prompted.

Her name was all she needed to refocus on the task at hand. She'd get through this operation first then she'd go find somewhere to bang her head against the wall. It wasn't that she was embarrassed about going to a movie with Lucien, she simply didn't want the whole hospital to know she might be dating her attending. Her department chief. Oh God, the rumors. They'd be all over the hospital soon.

"Where are you going to dinner?" Shirley, the scrub nurse asked as she passed Lucien a requested instrument.

"There's this new little place not far from the theater I thought we'd try."

Did everyone know about this date except her, Neela started to wonder, frowning as Crenshaw geared up for another round of teasing.

"So, Neela…do you put out on the first date?"

"DUSTIN!" Neela, Lucien and Shirley all yelled in unison, though Neela was the only one blushing behind her mask, grateful that the patient was sedated and had no idea what a group of utter wankers were cutting him open.

"Can we please focus on the patient here?" She asked stiffly, putting an end to any conversation in the operating room.

Near the end of their shift, Lucien found Neela as she was stacking charts at the surgical admit desk. His hand at the small of her back was enough to make her jump. "Oh, Lucien…I…you startled me."

He looked apologetic and removed his hand, reaching up to smooth his fingers over curls he had recently cut off. He must have released the pointlessness of his gesture because he dropped his hand again. "Sorry."

"It's all right." She looked up at him, feeling nervous and shy which she told herself was ridiculous. This wasn't a blind date, she knew him. Very well. Of course that was probably enough reason to make her nervous…

"Is it all right if I pick you up around eight?" He was speaking softly maybe because he realized his earlier error of discussing things with an audience. Neela hadn't been able to look Crenshaw in the face for the remainder of her shift after some of his teasing.

"Yeah. Sure. Eight." She shoved her files around on the counter top, struggling to find something to say that was more than one syllable. "I have no idea what to wear."

He laughed at that and Neela wanted to kick herself. That obviously wasn't the multi-syllable thing to say. He must think she's a twit.


	14. Chapter 14

They never did make it to that movie. After he picked Neela up at her apartment (and she smiled sweetly at the fact that he brought her flowers, found something to put them in and awkwardly thanked him for his compliments about her chosen outfit) they had gone to a small, quiet restaurant for dinner. Over pasta and dessert, along with a bottle of very nice wine, they talked. 

They seemed to have an unspoken agreement to avoid anything work-related, including discussion of their coworkers, and that made Neela happy. Happier than she'd been in a while, and relaxed. Or maybe that was the wine. It didn't matter though, she found herself charmed and amused by some of Lucien's stories and asides about his childhood and his non-surgical interests.

"I was too short for the lacrosse team at fourteen, but my sister played field hockey. I often found myself pressed into being a practice partner with her." He shrugged, explaining how he ended up interested in a sport that most guys didn't play in Chicago.

"Did you have to wear the uniform?" She couldn't resist a smirk.

"No." He looked down at the napkin in his lap, the small smile on his face hidden from her view at first. "I didn't have the hips for it."

"Lucien…you did not…"

A laugh, he was playing with her. "No. No, I never felt the need to wear a skirt, part of an athletic uniform or not."

As the evening wore on, he had moved his chair closer to hers. Once the dishes had been removed by the wait-staff, Neela found herself holding his hand on top of the table as they talked. It was s simple gesture, but intimate. And surprisingly, a comfortable one for her. His hands were familiar to her, after all. They spent so many hours in the operating room guiding her own much smaller hands. Of course, that evening they felt different. Softer, warmer…gentler. They weren't the latex clad hands of a skilled surgeon teaching his protégé. Instead she was holding the hands of a friend, a companion, a man who wanted to be much more than all of those things: a potential lover.

Neela was almost embarrassed to realize they were the last customers in the restaurant, but Lucien didn't seem bothered by it at all. Instead, after he quietly took care of the bill, he stood and offered Neela his arm, asking if she'd like to take a walk with him. She found his chivalry a nice change of pace. He walked with her close by his side, opened doors for her, kept her from walking along the curb and even offered her his jacket when the night air became chilled.

They were stopped at the window display of an art gallery, the glow of the street lamps giving them enough light to inspect the paintings and sculptures behind the glass. It also gave Neela a chance to study them, their reflections. They looked like a couple to her. The thought startled her initially. Certainly he was older, that was obvious. But he looked happy. She looked happy. There was an easiness between them as they stood close together, two people comfortable in each other's personal space.

"I wonder if it would make a difference if that were hung from the other end?" His question puzzled her, pulled her from her thoughts.

Then she looked to where he had been pointing, some abstract mess on canvas. "I saw this show on the Animal Planet where they let elephants paint pictures with their trunks. I liked those better."

He laughed at her, tried to put on an air of sophistication and failed, finally admitting that he didn't understand the point of the artwork either. "Elephants, huh? Well if monkeys can write Shakespeare…"

"What?"

"You know, they say if you place monkeys in a room with typewriters they'll eventually manage to reproduce the works of Shakespeare…"

"They will not."

"They might."

"You're barmy."

"You're beautiful."

"And you're drunk."

By the time they returned to his car, Lucien felt sober enough to drive but Neela was still feeling the warm effects of the wine. She sat looking at him long after he'd stopped the car in front of her building and turned off the engine. He was watching her too, as if he were unsure of where to go from that point forward. She realized his problem and his nervousness by the way he chewed at the corner of lip, kept his hands on the steering wheel.

"Lucien?"

"Y…yeah?"

His stutter and boyish smile were enough to make her place a hand on his. "Walk me to my door?"

He ducked his head, looked embarrassed at having forgotten this part of the dating ritual. "Oh. Right. Sorry."

He did as she asked, getting out of the car, coming around and opening the other door for her. Walked her up the steps and waited for her to pull out her keys and let them into the lobby of the building. He was biting his lip again and looking at his feet and Neela couldn't understand the sudden awkwardness after their pleasant evening.

"Are you all right, Lucien?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. You?"

He was so odd sometimes; it made her smile. "I'm good. I had a lovely time tonight."

That brought a smile to his face, made him meet her gaze. "I'm glad. I had a nice time too…with you."

"It's late, I should probably go in."

"Neela?"

"Yes?"

"Is June off to a good start?"

"Yes it is." She stood on tip-toe and kissed his cheek.

"Does that mean you'll go out with me again?" He waited to ask until she had started up the stairs to her apartment.

"Possibly."

"I wasn't drunk when I said you were beautiful. Earlier."

"I know."

"Good night, Neela."

She stood watching him as he turned to let himself out of the lobby, back to the street. He hadn't tried to kiss her good night. She didn't know why that bothered her but it did. Without thinking too much about it, Neela found herself moving back down the stairs and after him.

"Lucien, wait…"

He stopped, turned and looked at her. "Neela?"

"Your forgot something."

"I did?"

"After all of your talk about relationships and courting…romantic methodology I think you said." She shook her head, still bemused at his choice of words, "Aren't you going to kiss me good night?"

"No." His voice was soft, his expression hard to read.

"Why not?" She was truly baffled by him now. Was there something wrong, had he changed his mind about them?

"You said you wanted to take things slow."

"I didn't mean_that_ slow…"

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Do you want me to kiss you good night, Neela?"

God, sometimes she wanted to throw her hands up or throttle him. He was impossible. Didn't she just tell him she wanted to be kissed? Hadn't she followed him back outside just for that fact? Making a frustrated noise, Neela made a decision and moved closer to the curly-haired source of aggravation. Placing a hand on his shoulder to keep her balance, she stood on tip-toe again and took his chin in her other hand, bringing his face closer to hers. "_I_ want to kiss _you_good night, all right?"

"All right." He was smiling, his breathe warm on her skin as he spoke.

He didn't get a chance to say anything else before Neela brought her lips to his. He still tasted like wine and it was a welcome surprise. So was the way he placed a hand on the small of her back to steady her as he leaned into the kiss, returning it with one of his own. She would have stayed like that for much longer had he not been the one to pull away.

"Thank you for a lovely evening." He repeated her words back to her then cleared his throat softly. "You really should go inside…it's late."

She nodded, smiling and unable to resist lifting her fingertips to her lips as if to feel for herself that there was proof of their kiss still there. "Saturday."

"What?"

"I'll go out with you again."


	15. Chapter 15

_Sorry it took so long to update with a new chapter. Exams and winter break have been crazy plus I've been distracted with another fannish project, role-playing! This chapter is set quite a bit after their first date and it's Neela be neurotic about things. She's never been the type to talk about her personal life much so I imagine she has a lot of inner turmoil at times._

She did go out with him again that Saturday, and the one after that as well as any evening they had free in between. She spent so much time with Lucien between work and their dates during the summer months that once an empty Monday rolled around she found herself actually missing him. It was one of her rare days off, one that wouldn't require her to prepare for a case the next day or study for some in-service exam. And it was a day that Lucien wouldn't be around.

He was in Evanston visiting his sister. She knew he tried to see his sibling as often as possible and it was something she actually adored about him. It was sweet. Made her realize that he is a caring person despite his sometimes more clueless leanings to the contrary. He was also reluctant to introduce her to Victoria just yet. On one level, Neela understood and agreed. He was being cautious and protective of the woman much the way single parents shield their children from the evidence of their dating lives.

And the completely irrational part of Neela was just the slightest bit jealous. She's become so used to the routine they'd fallen into: yoga and coffee in the early morning, possibly a shift together or failing that they'd share a meal. She was sure some people would find it tedious and routine, but to Neela it was efficient and comforting to know he was always there. Except for today.

Being used to the frantic pace of being on call and working in two departments as a trauma surgeon, Neela had a hard time finding ways to fill a day where there were no demands to be met. She watched television for a bit, tried to read, listened to music, went for a run. Still, by the time she checked her watch she realized barely half the day had gone by. She felt ridiculous. She was a grown woman. She'd been living on her own for well over a year, no roommate, no spouse. She didn't need someone else to fill the void for her.

But she wanted to call Lucien anyway. She settled for finding a pillow to hide her face in and muffle a frustrated scream. Wasn't this how love-sick teenagers behaved? The thought annoyed her. She was never this worked up about Michael and she'd married him for God's sake. She needed a distraction, a hobby, a life. Maybe that was her problem: she spent too much time with Lucien. She wondered what he'd say to that, she was sure he wouldn't agree. He, as far as she could tell, was perfectly happy with the way things were.

He'd probably even laugh if he knew how batty she was behaving without him around. Tell her it was a sign that they were meant to be together. Some sort of Yin to her Yang. At least it wouldn't be as obnoxious as his surgical circle of life speech he'd recently subjected her to, he really was an obnoxious git sometimes. Oh! That was it, she'd just stay cross with him, then she wouldn't want to see him. She was bloody brilliant at times.

Or completely mad. She sighed again and picked up the phone. She didn't call Lucien, she dialed Abby's number. She needed another perspective and though she and Abby hadn't really had a heart to heart in months, had only barely begun to repair their friendship (Neela hadn't yet forgiven Abby for the hurtful drunken outbursts in December) there was no one else she felt she could talk to about relationships. She'd been there to talk about Gallant and even Gates. Maybe she'd have something insightful to say about Lucien.


End file.
